


Wool

by littleblackbow



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2014-08-25
Packaged: 2018-02-14 14:32:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2195361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleblackbow/pseuds/littleblackbow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry never expected to find a house full of wool when he went to investigate magic leaking out of the chimney. He was even more surprised to find out exactly what was going on inside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wool

Wool.

Piles and piles of wool. It was probably the last thing Harry expected to see while out on a simple patrol. He’d sent Ron home early to help Hermione look after the baby. Since this particular house wasn’t actually coming up with any sort of negative aura, just leaking magic out the chimney, Harry was sure he could manage resetting it himself.

Sometimes being an Auror was about doing some very mundane things, indeed. But then again, walking into a front room that was packed floor to ceiling with balls of wool and half-knit clothing, the only thing he could think of was how much Molly would love to live there.

In fact, he was so overtaken by the vastness of this stash of handicraft, he had forgotten that there might possibly be an occupant responsible for the mess.

“Oh, God, not again. Look, I’ve told you lot, I’m doing nothing wr-...”

Harry spun around at the sound. He had been wrong. _This_ was the last thing he’d expected to find. “Malfoy?”

“Buggerall.” Malfoy tossed aside the three balls of orange and brown wool he’d had in his hand, and flicked open the door with his wand. “Out! I don’t care who you are or what you’re doing here, I’ve had enough. Get out of my house before I report _you_ to the Ministry, too!”

Harry wasn’t quite sure what was going on. Was it possible that this wasn’t even Draco Malfoy? He found himself quickly pushed out of the door and then hurried down the three steps onto the front walk. “Malfoy? What are you doing here?”

“It’s none of your business. I’m doing nothing wrong. Now, go back to your cronies and tell them to leave me alone!” Draco’s face was bright red with anger, but not embarrassment.

It didn’t make any sense. Harry stood for a moment on the front lawn and watched as the drapes were pulled closed in the front room. 

There was still magic leaking out of the chimney.

\---000---

That night, all Harry could think about was piles and piles of beautiful colored balls of knitting wool. He tried to remember back and pick out precisely what it was that struck him about it. Of course, he’d seen houses stacked floor to ceiling with various things that people had been hoarding, but this was different.

“They smelled fresh.” Harry rolled over onto his back and stuffed his hands under his head. “Freshly-dyed balls of wool all over the front room. Organized by color and size?” If it were Molly, he’d chalk it up to an overzealous preparation for Christmas. If it was Luna, he’d imagine it was one of her odd fancies.

This was Malfoy, though. Draco Malfoy. With just _loads_ of wool stacked up in his front room. Of course, this would explain why it was all perfectly organized and sorted by color and thickness. But why have so much of it? And how was it all so fresh?

Harry rolled over and reached for his wand. He flicked it at the light, extinguishing it. 

A few minutes later, he picked up his wand again and cast _Lumos_. “It’s no good. I can’t sleep with this kind of puzzle buzzing around in my head.”

He thought about asking someone about Malfoy. Just on the off chance that someone he knew might know what was going on with the git. He had no intention of bringing Ron or Hermione into this; Merlin only knew what they might do if they found out where Malfoy lived. He thought about asking Luna, but he was sure she had nothing to do with anyone from Malfoy manor after the war.

The sad truth was that he couldn’t think of a single person in the country who might have had any contact with that pain in the arse since the end of the war. Oh, they’d all seen him at the trials, they’d read the newspapers as it reported in great details about how Malfoy Manor was taken down, how Lucius was banished to Bulgaria, and how Narcissa went with him.

But after that, there was no news of Draco Malfoy at all. Nobody knew where he was or what he had been doing.

“Except now I know.” Harry slumped into the chair by the fire on the ground floor of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. “Lot of good it does me. You fucking idiot, Malfoy! I see you for fifteen seconds at best, and you’re still able to crawl under my skin and make me lose sleep.”

Harry was more angry with himself than anything. “Bloody git.”

\---000---

“There is still magic leaking out of the chimney.” That’s what Harry had told himself as he stood in the street staring up at the little house. It was his day off, so he wasn’t in his official robes. “And no matter what he says, we can’t have that happening in a west suburb of Muggle London.” Harry zipped up his sweatshirt, patted his hair down, and marched up the front walk like a man on a mission.

This time, he rang the doorbell.

Harry counted to ten. There was no answer. “Right. Ring again, or leave it for tomorrow?” he asked himself.

He rang the doorbell again.

A few moments later, the door swung open wide. “It’s nine o’clock in the morning, Potter. There’d better be some major disaster involving my personal well-being for you to wake me up this early on a Sunday.”

Harry was at a loss for words. Draco stood there with his hair sticking out in every direction, dark creases under his eyes, and wearing a pink housecoat with gaudy yellow satin trim. The housecoat was too small, and Harry could see that he wore an extra sleeve, hand-knitted, on one arm covering his mark, but very little else.

“Ch-chimney,” Harry finally stammered, “leaking.”

“Bloody hell!” Draco shouted. He reached out and pulled Harry in by the front of his sweatshirt, then slammed the door. “Why didn’t you tell me yesterday?”

“Got thrown out?” Harry offered. “Because you were being an unbearable arsehole to me?”

“Because you broke into my house wearing Auror robes, and I’m getting bloody-well sick of it all.” Draco pointed to one of the chairs in the front room. It was the chair that had only a half-dozen balls of brightly-colored wool on it. “Sit!” 

Harry did as he was told and watched as Malfoy went to the fireplace. 

Draco pulled his wand out from behind the urn on the mantle, and levitated a cauldron off of the hook inside the hearth. “Can’t have magic spilling out all over Hounslow. Might dye one of those flying metal aero-tubes bright colors if it comes down too low.”

“Nothing dangerous?” Harry asked sheepishly, fiddling with the wool.

Draco set the cauldron down in the corner and tossed his wand back up to the mantle. It landed perfectly inside the urn. “I’m not allowed to brew potions, Potter. Do you think with Aurors paying me social visits every few days I’d chance anything dangerous?” He sat back on the floor and untied the housecoat. 

Blue and green checkered boxers.

“Right. I didn’t think as much, but just in case.” Harry shrugged. “Thought I’d ask.”

“Why are you even here, Potter? You’re not in uniform.” As Draco leaned back a couple balls of yarn fell down on him. Without a second thought, he tossed them across the room where they landed neatly into their respective color piles.

“Leaking magic.” Harry tried tossing the ball of yarn in his hand up to the top of the pile, but it just brought three more balls tumbling down onto him.

“Bullshit.”

“Right, curiosity.”

Draco rolled his eyes and gave a snarky laugh. “Well, at least you’re honest.” He stood and wandered through the room into the hallway without another word. Harry wasn’t sure if he should stay there or follow the man. Then, from somewhere else in the house, Draco called out. “Tea?”

\---000---

Dying wool. No, not just dying wool. Spinning wool and dying wool.

It was so weird, Harry wasn’t entirely convinced that he wasn’t dreaming all of this. Malfoy had taken it upon himself to use his brewing skills to dye wool. And then, apparently, sell it for an enormous profit overseas.

“American Muggles are daft. And they’ll buy anything made in England for twice the price of anything made in America. All I had to do was create a charm that would disguise my owls as men wearing brown jumpsuits and stupid hats as soon as they landed. Then they leave the package at the door, and I’m set.” Draco took a bite of his toast and tossed it back onto his plate. “It’s brilliant.”

He’d made more than just the tea. In fact, it was a full breakfast with scrambled eggs, toast, and bangers. And from the way he was talking, it was as if he’d been deprived of any sort of conversation for ages.

“You’re not allowed to use disguise charms.” Harry regretted the words almost as soon as they were out of his mouth. He took a huge bite of eggs.

“I can’t use them on _me_. But there’s nothing that says I can’t disguise an owl. I’ve already checked on that, and it’s perfectly fine as far as the Ministry is concerned.” Malfoy pointed at Harry with his fork and smiled. “You’re not going to get me that easily, Potter.”

The words went straight into the pit of Harry’s stomach and somehow made his chest feel a bit too warm. “Wasn’t trying to get you,” he said quietly.

“Doesn’t matter. At least I’m able to make a decent living without barging into people’s houses uninvited and nosing into their businesses.”

Harry was somewhat amazed at how civil their conversation and breakfast actually was. When they treated each other with a modicum of respect, it seemed like they could actually be decent friends. Maybe. If he didn’t try thinking too hard about it. He hadn’t realized that he’d gone completely silent until Malfoy spoke again.

“I don’t get visitors,” he stated, staring down at the nubby end of one banger rolling around on his plate. “I don’t get _any_ visitors. So, if I’m doing something wrong as a host, you’ve got to tell me. I’m not trying to offend you.”

“I’m not offended.” Harry bit his lip. “So, you don’t get out much?”

Malfoy shook his head. “Muggle London isn’t really for me. And I’m not what you’d call _welcome_ in wizarding society right now.”

“So you work all the time?” Harry was starting to feel sorry for the git.

Draco shrugged. “It’s something to do. Something to pass the time until I can afford to get away from here.”

This was something Harry hadn’t anticipated. “Get away? As in moving?”

“Probably America. Maybe Canada. Someplace where the weather is just as miserable as it is here, but where nobody will know me, know my name, and know my family.”

Suddenly, something seemed to go very wrong inside of Harry’s chest. This was not what he’d expected, and he wasn’t sure why, but he hated the thought. He decided that it was because of the injustice of it all. Why should Malfoy be run out of his own home country when he’d done nothing wrong?

Okay, well, it wasn’t that he’d done _nothing_ wrong, but he hadn’t intended any wrong. And why couldn’t he go into wizarding London like everyone else? Okay, so he couldn’t use a glamour charm to disguise himself. And most of the people on the streets had at least one family member who was either killed or tortured by the Death Eaters. 

Harry’s head was pounding. “It shouldn’t be like this.”

“Yeah, well, you live in Potter-world. It’s very different living in a place where you’re universally hated.” Malfoy levitated his plate and cup to the sink and sat back in his chair.

Harry could feel his stare. He looked up. Malfoy was studying him, staring at him as if he was preparing to paint a portrait or something. “What? Have I got crumbs on my face?”

“No, you’re just... fine.” Draco looked away. “You’re perfectly fine. Always have been and always will be.”

Something happened in that moment, and Harry wasn’t quite sure what it was. But he felt as if something had suddenly changed.

The long, awkward silence was broken by the sound of Malfoy’s chair being scraped back across the kitchen floor as he stood. “Right, you’d best be going, then.” Malfoy took a deep breath. His smile looked forced. “Off you go. I will try not to allow any more magic to leak out the chimney, and I’d also appreciate it if you could tell your lot that I’m not doing anything dangerous and to leave me alone. I’ve got just loads of work to do. Mind showing yourself out?”

And with that, he left Harry alone in the kitchen with his half-eaten toast and bangers. “Right.” Harry took a deep breath. “Fine.” He stood and looked down at his mess of a plate. “Good. Best be off then.”

\---000---

Harry patted the big gray owl on the head and gave it a sardine before he opened the letter.

_Mum’s 60th is next week. She keeps telling us she doesn’t want a fuss, but you know it’s all show. We’re having a party, and even Charlie will be there._

_I know you’ve been awfully busy with work and such, but we’d all love to see you again. Seems Ron’s the only one who gets to spend any time with you._

_Besides, I’ve got a new seeker broomstick. Thought you might like to check it out._

_Love ya!  
Gin  
_

Harry couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Molly Weasley turning sixty. She was probably the most ageless person he’d ever known.

He penned a quick reply and gave it back to the owl. Of course, he’d attend. There was no way he’d miss another celebration at the Burrow, especially if it involved one of Mrs. Weasley’s freshly baked cakes.

And he knew exactly where to get the perfect present.

\---000---

Harry had only just run the bell when the door opened wide with a disheveled Malfoy wearing that ridiculous housecoat answered the door. This time, however, it wasn’t tied closed at all.

Yellow and green striped boxers.

“What? What? It isn’t leaking again?” Draco craned his neck out of the door, checking the chimney. “I’m not even dying right now.”

“No, no, it isn’t that.” Harry pushed Malfoy inside, slightly embarrassed by his attire, and not at all admitting to himself that he wanted to know what Malfoy’s bare chest felt like.

Very warm and silky.

“What is it, then? Really, Potter, you’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days. It’s not as if your boys don’t come ‘round enough to check up on me, but you-”

“No, it’s not that at all. I just want to buy some wool.” Harry put on his best smile and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

Draco looked taken aback. “Wool? You taking up knitting, Potter?” He turned around and walked into the front room. “I suppose your hobby of saving the world isn’t keeping you busy enough these days.”

“Not for me, Malfoy. It’s for Mrs. Weasley.” He wasn’t sure he ought to have told Malfoy who it was for. For some reason, it seemed awkward mentioning her in front of him. “Her birthday party’s next week, and I thought, you know.”

“Right.” Malfoy seemed to get lost in his thoughts for a few moments, but he quickly snapped back to his usual self. “Right! So, anything along this wall is ready and for sale.” He motioned to the side of the room where what seemed like thousands of balls of yarn were stacked up on the sofa, wingback chair, and end table. The only chair not covered in balls of wool yarn, the one Harry had sat in before, was also along that wall, and this time it had a dozen small balls of a beautiful purple and gray heathered yarn. “The ones on this other wall are already sold, so you can’t have those.”

He reached up and grabbed his wand from the urn. “If you want something else, I can show you the drying rack. Those are in the dining room.”

Harry was trying his best not to stare at Malfoy, and to pay attention to the task at hand, instead. “No, no, this is fine. I’m sure I can find something for her here.”

“Brilliant. Just let me know.” Malfoy left Harry standing there in the room as he went back out into the hall. 

Harry picked up six balls of a very pretty teal wool. He imagined she could add this color into whatever it was she was knitting, or just make a nice scarf and mitten set for herself.

He was lost in his thoughts of the Burrow when he heard Malfoy shout from the other room. “Tea?”

Harry could smell rashers cooking.

\---000---

 

“Thanks for breakfast again,” Harry told Malfoy as he bagged the yarn. “You know, you didn’t have to.”

“Shut it, Potter.” He handed Harry the bag of yarn, then grabbed another bag and stuffed it full of the gray and purple wool. “Here. This is from me. It’s her birthday, and, yeah, you can say it’s from you if you think she won’t like something from me, but...” He shrugged and shoved the bag at Harry.

“Thanks. I’m... you know, you don’t have to. Let me buy them.”

“Nah, it’s okay. I owe her a lot. And...” Worry lines flashed across his face.

Harry reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Draco. I’m sure she’d love to have a present from you.”

Draco nodded. He took a deep breath to compose himself, then tossed his wand back into the urn on the mantle. “Right, so you best be off now. Can you show yourself out? I’ve got to go turn the wool on the drying racks.” Before Harry could get another word in, Draco marched off into the dining room and closed the door.

Harry had a sneaking suspicion that Draco was hiding his emotions in that room.

\---000---

Mrs. Weasley loved the wool. No, more than that, she absolutely _adored_ it. She kept going on about the colors and the softness, and how she couldn’t believe at how finely it was spun.

Harry had no idea there was even that much to say about the stuff. He just knew that the colors were nice, and it wasn’t scratchy when he touched it. “Well, I’m glad you like it. And that gray one there? That’s from Malfoy. He just happened to be there when I was buying mine, so he told me to give that to you and to say that...”

The whole room had fallen silent.

Molly was still smiling. “Go on.”

“To say that he wishes you a happy birthday. And that he feels... gratitude for what you’ve done.” Harry was sure he could hear a pin drop in the room.

“If you see him again, tell him thank you from us, okay?” Molly told him as she came up and gave him a hug.

Ginny came up to Harry and put her hand on his back. “From all of us,” she added. “We’re just as grateful for what _he_ did.”

Harry hadn’t really thought about it much. Of course, he had acknowledged that Draco had saved his life. And saving Draco’s life seemed to be something of a hobby of his. But this whole family was tied to him, as well. They didn’t blame him for what his parents had done. Instead, they were thankful for his own contribution to the fall of Voldemort.

“Right. If I see him again, I’ll tell him.”

\---000---

White boxers with little blue whales and red anchors.

“She loved it.” Harry smiled as he marched in the door without an actual invitation.

“Of course she did.” Draco was smiling. “It’s amazing wool. And after it’s dyed, I work it on the rack so it softens before I wind it into balls.” They went into the front room again, and Draco moved the cauldron from the hearth to the corner. “The wool still has its lanolin, so of course it’s going to be softer.”

“Don’t you ever wear clothes?” Harry wasn’t sure where the question came from, or why he even asked. But it had been nagging at him since the first day.

“I don’t have anything that isn’t stained at this point. Oh, except for this ugly thing. It’s made of some hideous Muggle material that won’t take a dye to save it’s sorry life.” He shrugged out of the housecoat and threw it into the corner. “And I can’t really go out and get new clothes, can I?”

“Why not?” Harry thought about moving the dozen balls of yarn off of the chair, but decided to just sit on the floor with his back to the sofa, instead.

“Well, let’s see. I have my Hogwarts robes. I could wear those into a Muggle store and buy myself some Muggle clothes with the little bit of money I’m saving to move?” Draco sat on the floor opposite him. “Not likely. Besides, most of it’s American money. I can’t really use it until I’m ready to go.”

“You mean cash? Not money in the bank?”

Draco nodded. “I can’t have a Gringotts’ account. They wouldn’t take American money, anyway. And I can’t open a British bank account because I don’t have one of those idiotic Muggle ID cards. And since I can’t use magic...”

“You’ve no way of opening an account.” That was the point at which Harry realized just how hopeless this situation was. Draco really did need to get out of the country. Without any friends or family here, he couldn’t even get out to buy his own clothes.

Harry hadn’t actually realized that Draco had gotten up and left the room until he heard the call from the kitchen again. “Tea?”

\---000---

“I’m telling you because you need to know.” Ron stirred his coffee with a chip, leaving a greasy film on the top of his drink. Ron had been the one who picked this filthy Muggle restaurant, and now Harry was sure it was simply to make his stomach turn.

“You’re not telling me anything yet, Ron. You’re just making your coffee even more disgusting than it was before.”

“Aww, chips and coffee are bloody brilliant, mate. Gotta try it sometime. No, I’m not here to talk about the food. Just wanted to tell you what’s going on with Malfoy.” Ron chucked the chip in his mouth and drank the grease off the top of his coffee.

“What do you mean, going on with Malfoy?” Harry nodded at the waitress as she refilled his water glass, trying not to show too much concern.

“Well, he’s on the shit list, isn’t he? I mean, the whole of second division’s been stopping by every third day for some random inspection or another, and now they’re talking about pulling some sort of sting.” Even though there was little chance of any wizards listening in on their conversation in this revolting dive of a pub, Ron was still speaking softly.

“What are you on about?” Harry felt his heart jump into his throat. “Second division? Why would they do that?”

Ron shrugged. “Because they’re all right bastards? I’m just telling you because... well, you’re friends with him, right? Don’t get all defensive or anything, I think it’s fine that you make your own friends since I’ve been busy with the baby and all, but really, he’s in for a world of hurt. I don’t want to see you get all upset.”

“Of course I’m going to be upset. What the hell do they think they’re doing?”

“They’re bullying him the same way they were bullied _by_ him in school,” Ron grumbled. “I mean, I never liked the spineless git when were back in school, and yeah, maybe I would have had it out for him back then, too. But we grow up. At least we’re supposed to grow up. And you wouldn’t be sitting right there across from me if it wasn’t for him.”

“Thanks Ron.”

“Nobody needs to live like that.”

“So, what can I do about it?” Harry pushed some mashed potatoes around on his plate, creating an ugly mess with the overcooked veg and gloopy gravy.

“It’s second division, Harry. I don’t know that there’s anything we can do about it. You could talk to Shacklebolt, but he doesn’t have a lot to say about things that happen in that division. They keep to their own, you know?” Ron shrugged. “I’ll keep my ears open and if I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”

“Ta mate.” Harry forced a smile.

\---000---

Harry got the owl late one Friday night. He’d left work a little early that day, and Ron was working with Boot on the second shift so he could spend time with Hermione and the baby in the morning.

Harry’d spent the day going through books in the dusty old library, and looking for anything that might be about knitting or crochet. He’d just convinced himself that he was _not_ looking for an excuse to go visit Malfoy again when the rapping sounded at the window.

It was an owl from the Auror office. As soon as Harry opened the window, the bird put the note directly into his hand, and flew off again without asking for so much as a pet or treat.

_Get to Malfoy’s now.  
I’ll be there in ten.  
Send patronus if you need me sooner.  
Ron.  
_

Harry felt all of his blood rush to his head. “ _Accio wand_!” He shouted, running toward the door. He grabbed his Auror robe on the way out and disapparated before he could even put it on.

It looked like a clean bust. From the outside, no Muggle would see anything different, but the door had been broken in and then magically repaired. The drapes had been pulled down in the front room, and there was nothing coming from the fireplace.

“Shit,” Harry cursed under his breath. He raced to the front door and let himself in.

The place was a mess. Everything was overturned in the hallway and Draco’s horrible housecoat was hanging from the tacky floral chandelier.

The front room had been emptied. There were no balls of colorful wool, no cauldron, no urn with a wand. The sofa had been turned upside-down, and the cushions had been removed from the chairs. “Shit!”

He raced into the dining room. They’d also taken all of the wool from the drying racks and tossed them into a corner, breaking most of them, and tangling them all up in a pile. Harry was in a right panic, “Draco!” He shouted. “Draco?”

Harry found Draco in the kitchen, sitting on the floor with his back against the sink, his arms across his knees, and his forehead pressed tight against his arms.

“Draco?” Harry threw his auror robe on the floor and stumbled in, tripping over a cutting board and towel on the floor.

Draco looked up with his red, tear-soaked eyes and Harry’s heart melted. “They took everything. Everything. My savings...” He was covered in bruises, and one eye was beginning to swell. There was a sharp gash and scar from a binding spell across his arms and ankles, and welts peeking over his shoulder that Harry just knew would reach all the way down his back.

“Fuck them all. Come here.” Harry fell down onto his knees in front of Draco and gathered him up in his arms. “I didn’t know. Ron just sent me an owl, and...” Draco’s chest hitched and Harry could feel his shirt dampen from under Draco’s eyes. What could he say? What could he do to make things right again? Getting the wool back wouldn’t be easy, to be sure. Second division was given its own jurisdiction and Harry, in third division, had no say in what they did.

“Come home with me. Please? You can’t stay here tonight.” He felt Draco nod against his shoulder. “Is there anything you need for the night?” The man shook his head. “Okay. Then...”

Draco turned his head toward Harry and looked up at him. “I’m not weak.”

Harry felt like he had a brick in his throat. “I know.”

“I’m just so fucking tired of it. I didn’t want to leave home, but this... _this_ is why I can’t stay.”

Draco’s face was so close, and Harry could see just a hint of passion in his eyes. This amazingly clever and strong man was allowing that angry adolescent boy come out just for a moment in his vulnerability, and Harry found himself falling in love.

The timing was bad, the situation was less than ideal, and he hadn’t even considered how the bruises might hurt, but Harry knew that if he didn’t claim those lips right then and there, it might never happen.

Thankfully, Draco seemed to need it as much as he did.

Unfortunately, Ron did not. “Oh, bloody hell. I got here as soon as I could, but... _Fuck!_ what are we gonna do about this?”

Harry barely heard him. Ron sighed and looked around. “Right.” He went up to Harry and kicked the back of his boots. “Get up, you two. Harry, you best take him home to mum. She’ll fix him up, then get him to your place. Second division wouldn’t dare touch Grimmauld Place.”

Draco pulled away from Harry and nodded. He gingerly pushed himself up off of the floor, limping a little from the welts on his ankles.

“Harry, you carry him. He can’t walk like that. I’ll clean up here, set up some wards and Floo-call for Boot to have whatever it was they’d taken set aside in the evidence room.” 

It was at times like these that Harry felt the deepest gratitude and highest respect for his best friend. He wrapped his arm around Draco’s waist and helped him stand. “Thanks, Ron. Can you also make sure they don’t pocket all his money?”

“You had cash sitting around the house?” Ron asked.

“Can’t put it in Gringotts. It’s all American currency,” Draco managed. The corner of his mouth was beginning to swell, also. “Sorry.”

Ron sighed. “Can’t be helped. I’ll see what I can do. I’ll have Bill make sure none of them make any big deposits. And really, Malfoy? Yellow with bumblebees? Are all your pants stupid like that?”

\---000---

Molly was livid. Harry wasn’t quite sure if she was more upset about Draco being beaten and abused or the fact that they’d destroyed his little wool business.

“They have no right breaking into your house like that!” she insisted. Molly placed a compress on the side of Draco’s face, then moved to the other side of the chair and began casting healing spells on his back. “It’s just bad behavior and poor leadership. And all that beautiful wool gone?”

Harry nodded from the doorway. “All of his savings, too.”

“Well, I _certainly_ have words for them tonight. This is _utterly_ unforgivable.” Molly finished up with a quick healing charm for his ankles and tucked away her wand. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley,” Draco said softly out of the good corner of his mouth.

“Oh, you can just call me Molly, dear.” she smoothed back his hair, and checked the compress again. “We’re practically cousins, after all.”

Harry smiled. It was something he could never have imagined happening just a month ago. “So, when can I take him home?”

Molly stood and looked over her patient. “You two can go off now. But he must get himself checked out at hospital tomorrow.”

“Not likely,” Draco grumbled. “I’ve no way of paying for it, even if I could find someone willing to see me.”

Ginny came down the stairs and handed a bundle of clothes to Harry. “Take him to Seamus. He’s in the pediatric ward, but he’s great with bumps and bruises, and he owes me a favor or three.” She tapped the top of the bundle. “He won’t fit into your clothes. These were Percy’s. Out of fashion, but better than those ridiculous bumblebee pants.”

“What is it with knocking my knickers?” Draco pulled the compress off his face. “Would you rather me wear nothing at all?” He shot his gaze over at Harry and pointed. “Don’t answer that!”

\---000---

It was definitely a strange night. Ron had owled Harry to inform him that the wool was tucked away in one of the back vaults at second division, and the money was nowhere to be found. They also had Draco’s wand and had put that in the vault with all of the wool. Apparently they were preparing charges against Malfoy for brewing potions and using charms without permission of the Ministry. He was worried they might try to plant evidence in the cauldron.

Apparently second division knew nothing about Harry’s involvement with Malfoy. Ron thought that might actually work in their favor when it came to bringing this all up before the tribunal.

“You can’t sleep?” Draco asked as he came down the stairs wearing an oversized white T-shirt and some pajama bottoms that were too short. His face was still black and blue, but at least the swelling had gone down. He was still walking with a limp. Without asking, he gently lowered himself to the seat next to Harry on the sofa. “I can’t, either.”

Harry nodded and handed him the message from Ron. “They were out of line. There’s no question about it. Unfortunately, it may take months for this to come before the tribunal. And I don’t know what they’ll try to do.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Draco shrugged. “It’s all gone, anyway. Half of that wool was supposed to be shipped out this week. It would take me two weeks to make up just those orders, and I don’t even have any dye.”

“Why did you choose wool? Why not fabric or clothing or... anything? Why wool?”

“Because I like it. I like woolen jumpers. I like scarves and mittens and hats.” He leaned over so that his shoulder was pressed against Harry’s and let his head roll back against the cushions. “I sat there at the end of the trials thinking about what I could do starting with nothing. My parents were gone, the house was gone, and all of my money was gone. I was allowed that one tiny Muggle house with inadequate space.”

“What made you think of it, though?”

Draco looked over at Harry. “It was McGonagall. She came to me after it was all over and told me that if I needed anything, I could always ask. Well, her family had sheep, and I don’t know why, but suddenly I thought that I could do something with that.” He closed his eyes and leaned back again. “It’s not a very glamorous story. Kind of stupid, really.”

“It’s amazing.” Harry looked back down at the letter in Draco’s hand. “Can you start over? Can you get more wool from her? I can go back to your house and get those racks from your dining room.”

“I don’t know. Right now, I don’t have the energy to think about it. We’ll see how things are after visiting Finnegan in the morning. That is, if he even wants to see me. I think your Ginny there is a bit optimistic.”

“She’s not my Ginny.” Harry chuckled. “She’s not anyone’s Ginny, actually. And I don’t know that she ever will be.”

“Good,” Draco whispered.

\---000---

The diagnosis was pretty much as they’d all expected. Most of the wounds inflicted would not easily be cured by magic. That’s the way second division generally worked. They would use an iron fist that would leave their “suspects” suffering for days after their emotional ordeal, and make sure that all of the magic they used could leave serious side effects if treated magically.

It was dirty, underhanded, and Harry hated it. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much he could do without raising a huge stink. And right then, it would make everything much worse for Draco if he did so.

“I’d say a week,” Seamus shrugged. “But he’s not a young’un. He’ll take longer to heal and that’s for sure.” He tucked his wand back into his sleeve and washed his hands. “No brewin’, no fightin’, no takin’ potions that might cause ya to sick up. No sleepin’ draughts. It’s a bloody mess it is. Crikey! I hate seein’ anyone end up like this. Even you, Malfoy.”

“Thanks.” Draco buttoned up his shirt and went to reach for his socks, causing a zing of pain to run up his right side. “Ach...”

“And no reachin’ for yer socks when Harry’s right here to help you. Stubborn git!” Seamus left the room and closed the door.

Draco leaned back in the chair again. “Why do all of your friends insult me while going out of their way to help me? It makes no sense at all.”

“Because they’re good people who don’t want to see any more suffering.” Harry picked the socks out of Draco’s shoes and started putting them on his feet. “Because you are a stubborn git sometimes, but you’ve still got a good heart and that counts for a lot.” He looked up. “Because they know I care about you, and I don’t care about people who don’t deserve it, but you were also a right bastard to them back in the day, and they can’t just let all of that go until you apologize.”

Draco just stared down at Harry for a long time. “You do care about me, don’t you? I mean, more than just your hero complex caring.”

“Yes. I do.” Harry patted the side of Draco’s leg, then stood up. “And you’d better not take advantage of that.”

Draco pushed himself up and toed into his shoes. “Not a chance. I’ve just gone from having nobody on my side to having half of the Weasley clan, Seamus Finnegan, and you on my side. I might as well be a bloody _Gryffindor_.”

Harry chuckled. “Don’t forget Headmistress McGonagall.”

“Bloody Hell! I _am_ a fucking Gryffindor, aren’t I?” 

“Not a chance.” Harry kissed Draco’s cheek and held open the door for him. “The day you go out of your way to help one of us without thinking about how it will give you some kind of advantage is the day I’ll consider letting you wear a red and gold scarf.”

Draco laughed and flashed him a bright, although bruised, smile. “On the coldest fucking day in hell, Potter.”

\---000---

On their way back home, Harry dragged Draco into a couple of Muggle shops to get him some new clothes. Simple jeans, a few black T-shirts, a wooly jumper and a jacket from one store, and some new pants and socks from another. “You’re paying me back for this, Malfoy,” Harry teased as he picked up the bill. “When you’re better and back on your bloody feet.”

As they turned the corner a few blocks away from the Leaky Cauldron, they found themselves face-to-face with Lester and Carmichael from Auror division 2. “Don’t say a word,” he told Draco. “Just stay a step behind me.”

“Well, what do we have here? You’re taking him in for something as well, Potter?” Lester was probably one of the worst of the lot. He had one of those faces that made him look as if he was always smelling something nasty. “We’ve already got enough on him to send him off to Bulgaria for good.”

Carmichael wasn’t the type to say much. He stood in more as the back-up, but he had a keen eye and a bloke could see that he calculated every single possible move.

“Well, then. Second division’s finest. Let’s see, there are six of you on your squad, and of the three teams, you two are supposed to be on patrol in the western suburbs, yes? What the hell are you doing a block away from the Leaky on a Saturday afternoon?” Harry smiled sweetly at them, then pulled down his glasses. “You know, one of the first charms I learned in school was the Patronus. It’s fast, it’s clever, and it would take less than one minute to report all of this to Shacklebolt.”

“Don’t even try, Potter, we’re not afraid of you. You may have all of First and Third under your sweet little thumb, but you’ve got nothing on us.” Lester crossed his arms. “Coming off of lunch. Heading out to patrol, if you _must_ know.”

Harry nodded. “Off you go, then.”

Carmichael “accidently” bumped into Malfoy as he walked by, pushing him into Harry. Harry caught him and heard his breath hitch in pain. “You know that planting evidence is grounds for dismissal. So is unlawful seizure.”

“Try and prove anything, Potter. Nobody _wants_ to believe you over us in this one.” Lester flipped him two fingers before disapparating.

“Bastards,” Harry grumbled.

“They’re right, though. It won’t matter who you are, wizarding London doesn’t want me here.” Malfoy stuffed his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “I can’t wait to get away from all of this. Canada sounds so nice. Thousands of miles of nothing in which I can get completely and utterly lost to the rest of the world.”

“I thought you didn’t want to leave.” Harry nodded to the bus stop.

“Oh, I love England. I don’t know anything else, really. But what happened right here? That has been my life every day for the past three years. Who would want to live in a place like this?” Draco went to the bus stop and sat on the bench. “Yeah, I was a right bastard in school. But we all had friends to back us up. Everyone did. This time, though, my friends are all gone. Moved away, dead, in prison, or just disappeared.”

Harry sat next to him and placed his hand over Draco’s. “So you make new ones.”

\---000---

“I think we’ve got ‘em,” Ron announced as he burst through the door without a knock or by-your-leave. “No, scratch that. They’re all in the fucking shitter after this!”

Harry was sitting in the main room with Draco sleeping on his lap. He’d been reading the latest Quidditch Monthly while keeping a cooling charm running through the room. “Ron? What are you on about?”

Ron shook his head when he entered the room. “Really, Harry, of all people? You really know how to pick ‘em, don’t you?”

“Shut it, Ron. Who’s in the shitter?” He tossed the magazine aside and cracked his knuckles.

“Second division. I’ve got us scheduled for a hearing at the end of next week. Shacklebolt was off his rocker giving those idiots that much power. Mum sent the Division 2 chief a howler.” Ron plopped himself down in the chair opposite the sofa. “Shacklebolt was right there in the office when it opened up and tore into them.”

“She did _not!_ ” Harry leaned forward, waking Draco. “A fucking howler? Well, they were behaving like a bunch of kids, I supposed it’s only right they’re treated like ones.”

“What are you two on about? Can’t you let a bloke get some sleep?” Draco rolled over onto his side and pressed his face into Harry’s stomach.

“Hey, this concerns you, you berk!” Ron shouted and threw a cushion at Draco.

Draco pushed himself up and in one move turned around, slid off of the sofa, and sat on the floor. “Right, so the fuckers who did this to me and destroyed my home got a right nasty shouting at, all of my shit is still locked up, and the world still hates me.” Draco rubbed one eye with the back of his thumb and brushed his hair out of his eyes. “Did I miss anything?”

“Harry, give me that cushion back so I can throw it again?” Ron pointed at the cushion.

Harry nudged Draco with his foot. “Molly Weasley sent the howler. Minister Shacklebolt was there in the room when it was opened. Have you ever _heard_ one of her howlers?”

A smile crept across Draco’s face as he remembered the howler she sent Ron in his second year. “Oh, yes. I’ve heard one before.”

“Right, so my point is they’ve got one week to put their case together, and since Shacklebolt’s involved, he’s likely locked up their vaults so they can’t tamper with anything.”

“They haven’t got a leg to stand on.” Harry added.

Draco stared off into a far corner and his smile turned into a grimace. “It depends on how they present their evidence.”

Ron and Harry turned to him and waited for his explanation.

“Well, if they check my wand, they’ll find that I _have_ been using glamour charms. I’ve been using them on the owls I sent out, and not on myself, but they might be able to turn that around on me. Also, by all technical standpoints, I’ve been brewing. Same as brewing tea in my eyes, but nevertheless, technically I have been brewing in a cauldron. With plants and minerals. I use them for dyes, but technically many of them are potions ingredients as well.”

Harry could see where this was leading. He had considered that this might be a problem, but until now, he’d chosen to ignore the possible implications in hopes that they could get the whole thing resolved in another way. 

“And I’ve been using magic to make goods to sell to Muggles. It’s true that there’s no law against that, and the magic I had been using were just simple charms and spells to keep the temperature consistent and prepare ingredients faster. There’s no residual magic in the wool, but they can turn that around, as well.” Draco sighed and leaned his head back on the sofa cushion, looking up at Harry. “It will come down to public sentiment about me. That Neanderthal from yesterday was right. It’s their word against mine as to how I used the magic. Who do you think they’ll believe?”

“Wait a tick... what Neanderthal from yesterday?” Ron hated being out of the loop. Especially when he was doing favors for someone who probably didn’t deserve them.

“We ran into Lester and Carmichael in front of the Leaky on Saturday.” Harry crossed his arms and leaned against the arm of the sofa. “Nothing happened. They were just being snarky bastards.”

“Lester and Carmichael were out by the Leaky? Muggle or wizarding side?” Ron asked.

“Muggle side. They were just there to harass me, then went off again.” Draco answered.

“They shouldn’t have been anywhere near there. Are you sure they’re not still following you? Seriously, Lester and Carmichael are supposed to be off investigating a wand-smuggler in Devon. If they were hanging around London, it’s only for one thing.”

“Finish the job?” Draco offered.

Ron nodded. “You two stay right here. They can’t get into the house. I don’t care if you hear your parents are back and they’re throwing a party in your honor. You’re not leaving this house until I talk to Kingsley.” He paused at the doorway and turned back. “Why are they after you like this, Malfoy? They’ve got to be five years older than you, so you couldn’t have done anything to them in school.”

Draco looked away and took a deep breath. “I think it’s more about what my family did to their families than what I, personally, did to them. I don’t know them myself, but I know I’ve heard those names around the dinner table. Or at least I did for a while. Then I’d never heard them spoken again.”

Harry knew exactly what that meant. He looked over to Ron. By the redness in his face and the look of complete horror, apparently he knew, as well.

“There’s nothing to be done about that now, though. And there’s no justice in taking it out on someone who wasn’t involved.” Ron stormed out the front door.

Draco picked himself up off the floor and put the cushion back where it belonged. “I still just don’t understand.”

“What?”

“I don’t understand him. Weasley.” Draco shook his head and pushed his hair back. “He knows all these horrible things about me, but he’s still defending me against those blokes who have a legitimate grudge. He could easily just walk away. It isn’t like he’s my friend.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, but he knows right from wrong. And I think he’d like to be your friend.”

Draco looked down at Harry sitting on the sofa. “What about you? I’m still trying to figure you out, as well. That day in the kitchen, you kissed me. Full-on, gave me a right snogging. Since then, you’ve... I don’t know. You’re bloody impossible to read, you know that?”

This was the conversation that Harry’d been running over in his mind. He still hadn’t figured it out, himself. When he’d think about calling Draco Malfoy his friend, it just seemed weird. But then, he wasn’t _not_ his friend, either. Buried somewhere deep inside of him, he knew the answer. He’d recognized that feeling when he saw Draco in the kitchen that day. Even before that, when he first touched that warm and soft chest.

“I’m bloody impossible in a lot of ways, Draco. My feelings are pretty bloody impossible, too.” Harry stood so that his face was directly in front of Draco’s. “All I can say right now, is that I’m desperately hoping you heal fast so that I can have my way with you without running the risk of hurting you.”

“So you don’t hate me.” Draco put his hand on Harry’s hip.

“No.”

“But you can’t say you want to be friends with me, either.” He put his other hand on Harry’s other hip.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. Friends, sure. But there’s no way I can leave it just at that.”

Draco leaned down and nuzzled Harry’s neck. “Then let me lie to you and tell you that I’m all better.” 

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco’s back and pulled him in close. “Just this once.”

\---000---

Monday mornings were never Harry’s favorite part of the week. It was his last day off before starting a new headache of a work week, and it was the day when he would take care of all the shit he hadn’t finished the previous week.

This Monday morning, however, he felt as if he was in heaven. There was something about waking up naked in bed with a warm body draped over him that made Harry feel perfectly content with the world. Yes, his arse was sore as hell, and the place smelled of sweat and bodily fluids and lubricant, but it also smelled like lanolin and man.

His thighs were sore from fucking Draco’s sweet ass in round one of the previous night, and his ass felt like it was still on fire from round two when Draco took control, but his heart felt like any wounds that he might ever have had were healed in one night. There was nothing he wanted more than to hold onto this moment forever.

Harry shifted in closer and nuzzled against Draco’s shoulder.

“You move too much,” Draco mumbled. He reached out, pulled Harry in tight to his chest, then relaxed back into sleep.

Harry kissed Draco’s collarbone and managed to work one of his arms around his waist.

“You’re also very affectionate.” Draco’s voice was scratchy and rough in the morning.

“Is that a problem?”

“Nah, it’s good.” He kissed Harry’s forehead. “It’s nice.”

“I think we should go down to the Ministry today.” Harry said after a long pause. He felt Draco’s back muscles tense under his hand. “I’d like to warn them off of you.”

“And you think the best course of action is to attack it head-on.” Draco moved his arm off of Harry and rolled over onto his back. “Bloody Gryffindor.”

“Well, what do you propose? Shall we just stay here in my house forever because a couple of bullies are out there trying to get us?”

Draco looked over into Harry’s bright emerald eyes. Damn him for those fucking eyes. “Staying in here with you forever doesn’t sound like such a bad idea right now.” A devilish smile crept across his face. “The bullies can go fuck themselves.”

“What about your business?” Harry lay down on Draco’s chest with his chin propped up on his hands. “Are you just going to walk away and let them take it like that?”

“No.” He sighed and draped his arm over his eyes. “I know you’re right. I’m just not as confident as you are that things will be alright.”

“Things will be fine. I’ve got a plan.” Harry kissed Draco’s chest, rolled off of the bed, and headed off toward the bathroom. “Shower first?” He looked back at the man in his bed and nodded for him to follow.

\---000---

“What do you mean, you resign?!” Ron was just as shocked as Chief Robards at this turn of events.

Harry slammed the envelope down on the desk and smiled sweetly. 

“Oi, Harry, are you sure about this?” Ron asked quietly.

“Don’t need the money, don’t need the harassment, don’t need the threats.” Harry crossed his arms. “What this place needs is a grand gesture to get your leaders back on track. Well, you’ve got your grand gesture now. I guess a howler from Molly Weasley wasn’t enough to rattle your cages? Well, then, when London hears about my resignation due to corruption in the second division going unpunished, maybe that will work.”

“Harry, you don’t have to do this,” Draco muttered unconvincingly behind him. Harry could hear the smile on his face.

“I’ve had enough. I’m a good auror - one of the best you’ve got. And when I leave, who knows who will be next? Ron? Terry? Cormac?” Harry nodded sharply. “You’d better start putting things in line. There’s a hearing next Friday and if you make public sentiment toward _this man_ the issue,” Harry took Draco’s hand in his own, “then you’ll be making a huge mistake.” Harry brought up their hands and laced their fingers together right in the Auror Robard’s face.

“Potter... Harry, please think about this. They were just doing their jobs.” Robards looked a little uncomfortable.

Ron stepped forward. “Their job is to find criminal and dangerous wizards. Not take years of frustration out on someone who did nothing wrong.”

“I haven’t looked over the evidence yet, Weasley. I don’t know that he’s done nothing wrong,” Robards shot back, pointing his finger in Ron’s face. 

Ron smiled. “Yeah, guilty until proven innocent? You’ve got a vault full of harmless wool. Much of that my mum would very much like to be knitting right now. You’ve got Minister Shacklebolt sealing the vault so your boys can’t tamper with the evidence. You’ve got two aurors who are supposed to be in Kent, following these two around like they’re a pair of...” He struggled for the right word for a moment.

“Death Eaters?” Robards supplied.

“Don’t you even dare,” Harry hissed. He turned on his heels and stormed out of the office, taking Draco with him, and leaving Ron to deal with the piece of shit behind the desk.

“You’ve made the mistake of your career, Robards. Backing Division 2 instead of the best aurors in Division 3?” Ron nodded at his supervisor and headed out of the office. “Big mistake.”

\---000---

“You quit your job.” Draco stabbed a tomato with his fork and ran it through the balsamic dressing at the bottom of his plate.

“Don’t need it,” Harry replied. He picked up a chip and tossed it into his mouth. “Besides, they’ll have me back in a heartbeat if I decide to go back.” He tapped his finger on the table. “Which I will not!”

Draco chuckled. “We’ll see how long that determination lasts. Right, so tell me why we’re eating at this disgusting... can you even call it a restaurant?”

“Because Ron insists that the chips in coffee are brilliant?” Harry tossed one of his chips into Draco’s salad. “And because it’s in a part of Muggle London where the aurors don’t generally go.”

Draco tossed the chip onto the table. “That’s revolting. Doesn’t the coffee get all greasy?”

“Right!? That’s what I told him, and then he drank that horrible oil slick off the top. Fucking hell! It would be one thing if the coffee was even decent, but it’s just like brown water here.” Harry laughed and took another bite of his burger. “We’re waiting for Ron.”

“I thought as much.”

“He went to go talk to Shacklebolt after that ordeal with Robards. Just to let him know what was going on.”

“I guess it helps to be friends with the minister.” Draco looked down at his sorry excuse for a salad. It was made with old, wilted and pink-stemmed romaine, not even rocket. The balsamic was too strong, there were only tomatoes and cucumbers in with the lettuce, and it was far, far too salty. “What do you think is going to happen?”

Harry shrugged. “I can tell you the best case scenario is not the most likely, and the worst case scenario may be more fun, and it’s probably waiting right around the corner. But that’s also the one that where someone will undoubtedly get hurt.”

“Let’s just hope it isn’t one of us.”

“Let’s hope.”

Ron came into the door a few short moments later. He pulled a chair up to the end of the booth and sat down. “Right, Kingsley’s right pissed off, as you may well have guessed. When he heard about your resignation, he went right down to Robards and tore him a new one.”

“Deserved it,” Draco muttered.

Ron took one of Harry’s chips and started dunking it in his coffee. “Right, well, that’s not the best of it. Apparently Robards didn’t even know what Division 2 was up to,” he turned to Draco and pointed the dripping chip at him. “And it wasn’t just you. They were going after anyone who has one of those fancy tattoos on his arm. You were wondering why your friends were disappearing?”

Draco shot Harry a glance. “You told him?”

“Was it a big secret? We’ve all noticed that they’re gone.” Harry shrugged and tossed another chip into Draco’s salad.

“Well, he didn’t know that Lester and Carmichael were in London and not in Kent. He’s got the rest of Division 1 out looking for them right now.” Ron sighed. “I’m supposed to tell the two of you to go home and stay home for now until the hearing next week. Lot of good that’s gonna do.” He tossed the chip into his mouth and then stole the balsamic-drenched chip out of Draco’s salad. “Hmm, not bad.”

“You’re disgusting.” Draco shoved his salad over to Ron. “But thanks for doing this, anyway. I owe you.”

Ron looked taken aback. “Whoa, that’s... unexpected. But yeah, you and your cronies don’t deserve this kind of treatment for just being stupid.”

“Okay, so when we’re done here, we go to the nearest apparition point and it’s straight home for us, right?” Harry clarified.

“No, what I’m saying is that you’re done here _now,_ ” Ron told him. “They’re still following you. The longer you’re out and about, the more likely it will be that they’ll catch you.”

“And then what will they do? It’s not like they’re going to use an unforgivable on us out in the middle of Muggle London.” Draco had posed the question, but as soon as he finished speaking, he wasn’t entirely sure he was right. They probably _could_ use an unforgivable. From what he’d already seen, they seemed to think anything was justified.

Ron got up from the table. “I’m going back to get Terry. We’re going to go help look for them. You two get home, quick as you can.”

After Ron left, the full weight of Harry’s situation started to sink in. “We’d better go. We can’t apparate from here, and I think the closest safe place is around the corner and down that alley behind the skip.”

“What? And leave behind this fabulous dinner?” Draco tossed his paper napkin into the salad bowl and stood. “Let’s get out of here. I’ve got a really bad feeling about the whole situation.”

They made it as far as the alley, but as soon as they turned in, Harry felt an all-too-familiar electric charge of magic fill the air. Without a second thought, he pulled Draco to him, and then pulled him against the wall. The hex flew right past his head.

“Fuckin’ Hell, Lester! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Harry demanded.

Lester came out from behind one corner and Carmichael came from behind the other. Shortly after that, two other aurors from Division 2 stepped in right behind Lester. “Just doing my job. Taking out the rubbish.”

“You’re off your fucking rocker, Lester. Robards will have your head for this, you know that, right?” Harry was still holding onto Draco. He moved out in front of the other man to protect him. “Get your head on straight, man.”

Lester turned to Carmichael and nodded. “He’s not an auror anymore, boys,” Carmichael told the others. “Now, let’s reassess, shall we? Instead of a suspect that needs apprehending, we now have a suspect and someone who is harboring him. Malfoy doesn’t have a wand. And apparently former-auror Potter doesn’t think it’s important to carry his around, either.”

Harry knew this was bad. He racked his brain to try to find a way out. If he had his wand in his hand, he could apparate them out of danger, but it was tucked into his back pocket.

Lester was the first one to cast the whip. Harry felt the sting directly across his face. It hurt like a bitch, and brought out a sharp hiss from deep inside. There was only one thing Harry could think of. They had to get away.

“This is it, love,” Harry said softly, turning his head toward Draco. “The only way is for you to use my wand and get us out of here. And you know what that means.”

“Fuckin’ hell. Doesn’t it count that I defeated you last night in bed?” A hex flew past him, just grazing Harry’s neck. “Fine, how should I do this?” Draco took a step back as a second whip hit Harry squarely in the chest.

“I don’t have time to teach you a sleeper hold.” Harry hissed, trying his best not to fall to his knees and leave Draco vulnerable.

“Fuck it. I’m so, so sorry,” Draco said. He kissed Harry on the back of the neck, then grabbed his wand, spun him around and kneed him sharply in the groin. As Harry slumped over, Draco caught him, then used Harry’s wand to disapparate.

\---000---

Harry awoke in his own bed with a cooling charm focused between his legs and one of Molly’s compresses on his chest and face. He was home, and he was safe. And there was a warm hand holding onto his own.

“God, Harry, I’m so sorry. I couldn’t think of anything else that would knock you out fast enough.” Draco’s voice was soft and sweet. “Really, if I had a brick or a rock or something, I would have just knocked you over the head, but there was nothing in that alley but a pile of rubbish bags, a dirty nappy and a used condom.”

“It’s fine. I’ll recover.” Harry looked up at Draco. “So, Molly’s been here?”

“Yeah. I floo-called her as soon as I got you here and told her what happened. She came right over, fixed you up, then up and asked if I knew where you might keep your red parchment.” Draco rubbed his thumb against the back of Harry’s hand. “Ron came by, too. Apparently, they’ve got all of the second division called in at the Ministry, and they’re giving each other alibis. Bunch of bloody assholes.”

“It’ll come down to wand usage.” Harry pushed himself up enough to prop himself against the pillows, then reached out for Draco’s hand again. “They’ll have all of their wands scanned.”

Draco shrugged. “Maybe. I hope so.” He paused in thought for a while, then swallowed hard. “Um, there’s something I wanted to ask.”

“Does it have to do with if my nuts are okay, ‘cause if it is, the answer is still no.”

“No,” Draco chuckled. “It’s something else. Why didn’t you just grab your wand and use it? Why me?”

“Because it would have left you open. They wouldn’t have used simple hexes on you.” They both knew that those hexes aimed at Harry were nothing compared to what they could have and probably were planning to do. “So, I had to stay between you and them.”

“I could have just given you your wand.” Draco observed. He looked up at Harry. There was a clever smile on Harry’s face and his eyes were twinkling. “What?”

“Oh, just think for a moment which would have been better? You grabbing my wand and saving my life, or me saving your life again? When we go before the tribunal, which story do you think will help you better.”

Draco smiled. “You’re a fucking clever-ass fox, you know that?”

Harry shrugged. “Anything to help, right?”

“One more thing. Back there in the alley, you called me ‘love.’ Just what did you...” Draco found his mouth filled with Harry’s tongue. And there’s no arguing with Harry’s tongue. He crawled up onto the bed and stretched out alongside the man to make it easier.

“Yes. I called you ‘love.’ And that’s not just another thing to put your case in favor in the court. In fact, I think it’s quite likely that I’ll keep calling you that long after all of those idiots in Division 2 are reprimanded and sent to prison.” Harry tried to roll over onto Draco, but winced and doubled over in pain. “Fuck! This is so not on!”

“Right? Romance is pretty difficult when you’ve got hexes on your face and swollen nuts.” Draco petted back Harry’s hair and helped him situate himself.

“Just how in the hell did you manage to fuck me last time with these kind of hexes on you? Shit! It hurts like hell.”

Draco shrugged. “I guess I wanted it bad enough to suffer through the pain. I mean, really, look at you. That might have been my last chance at the finest piece of ass this pathetic island has ever seen. Was I going to turn that down on account of being in pain?”

“Well, how about kissing it and making it all better?” Harry asked with a smile.

“Now _that_ I certainly can do.”

\---000---

Division 2 was disbanded.

Harry hadn’t seen it coming. Well, maybe he had, but he hadn’t expected it to happen so quickly. In fact, if Ron hadn’t sent him the morning paper, he might not have known until the day of the hearing.

_Auror Division 2 Disbanded: Four Aurors Dismissed on Charges of Brutality, Falsifying Evidence, and Dereliction of Duty_

The article didn’t name any names, but went on to explain how the aurors were being held until the date of their hearing.

“Holy shit!” Harry sat forward to read the rest of the article, cringing at the stinging of the hexes on his face and chest. “Draco, hey, wake up! You’ve got to read this!” He nudged his bed partner in the ribs. “They got ‘em all.”

“Good.” Draco didn’t move from his position, face-down in bed with his head in the pillow. “Now we can sleep.”

Harry smiled. He rolled up the newspaper and smacked Draco on the bottom. “This means you’ve got your business back. It says they’ll start making amends immediately.”

“Great. Lovely. Wake me when they get here with all of my shit they stole. Until then, have at least some pity for the man who sucked you off until your balls were all healed and nice and pink again. Damn, my mouth hurts.” He turned his head to face Harry. “You’re a right bastard for never letting me sleep, you know that?”

“You’re a lazy git who doesn’t give a shit about anything that happens before 9 o’clock in the morning.”

“You’re a fucking gorgeous idiot with a cock that has no business being as tasty as it is.” Draco crawled into Harry’s lap and kissed the base of his neck.

“And the snarkiest cunt who’s got the most fuckable mouth in all of England. So, now are we done insulting each other with compliments? Personally, I’d like to see if I can move on my own today.” Harry pulled the covers off of Draco.

Red Boxers with green and silver stripes.

“Fine. Fine. Do whatever pleases you.” Draco rolled out of bed and grabbed Harry’s dark blue robe on his way out the door.

Harry put the paper on the bedside table and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

“Tea?” He heard Draco yelling from the kitchen.

\---000END000---


End file.
